Lost Souls co-2

by Delilah Devlin

  He clipped the lid in place and then hid the cup behind him as he stepped back onto the path. “Honey, we have to go. Aunt Celeste is expecting us for dinner.”

  “Do we have to?” she whined, but then her eyes nearly crossed as a plain brown-and-black butterfly flitted to the top of her head.

  “Will you be placing an order today?” Mrs. E asked, her voice sounding strained.

  “We’ll get back to you,” Sam said. “But thanks so much for your time and for sharing this,” he said, spreading his hands, forgetting about the cup in his hand for a second and wondering if the woman could hear the soft thuds of the butterfly trying to escape its confines.

  Sam reached down with his free hand and hauled Cait to her feet. Then he wrapped his arm around her waist to propel her toward the door.

  “Just give me a ring,” Mrs. E called after them. “And you can order directly from the website.”

  Outside and heading at a swift clip toward the gate, Sam didn’t dare glance back. “Seriously, Cait?” he huffed. “You had to steal her pride and joy?”

  “It’s not like I’m going to pluck its wings,” she groused.

  Relief had him slowing his steps. Good Lord. He’d been worrying about a bug?

  “Trying to return it will be troublesome,” Cait said softly.

  Sam gave her waist a squeeze. “I’ll have a uniform drop it by. Say it was found by a concerned citizen.”

  Cait laughed and glanced up from beneath her lashes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so nervous. All that talk about weddings had you sweating.”

  “I wasn’t nervous,” he said, his voice gruff. “Just in a hurry.”

  “Sure you were.”

  He helped her into the car, handing her the cup to hold while he backed out of the driveway. The trip to Celeste’s took a good thirty minutes due to drivers heading home from work.

  The moment they pulled up, Celeste turned the CLOSED sign in the window. “I have da ingredients prepared. You have da butterfly?”

  “The rarest I could find,” Cait said, holding up the cup. “Endangered, even.”

  Celeste clucked her tongue. “Will make a powerful spell. Shall I steep da wings in boilin’ water?”

  “No!” both he and Cait shouted. They shared a sheepish glance.

  “Um, all I need are scales,” Cait said, reaching up to tug the rubber band from her hair. “Not so much he won’t be able to fly. He’s a living creature. Wouldn’t want to anger a goddess at this point.”

  “Uh-huh,” Celeste said, eyeing them both. “It’s a bug. Not a metaphor for your love life.”

  Sam’s jaw sagged.

  “Who you t’ink gave her da idea to pretend ta be a bride? Not the first idea dat came to her mind. She wanted ta be a collector.”

  Cait’s cheeks burned as she hugged the Styrofoam against her chest. “We’ll take everything home with us. I’ll mix it when the moon’s full. It’ll give the ink a little extra punch.”

  Celeste eyed her doubtfully. “You don’ need help?”

  “This one I can manage. It’s something I helped my mother make. I remember everything.”

  Celeste gave her a grave nod. “Let me bottle up da steeped saffron. Be right back.”

  Sam waited until Celeste disappeared and then grabbed her wrist to pull her close. “You were pretty convincing back there,” he drawled, looking down into her wide green eyes.

  Cait sniffed. “I’ve watched Bridesmaids. I know the secret code.”

  He gave an exaggerated shiver. “I’m glad you’re not really like that. Your act was kind of scary.”

  Her soft grunt was pure Cait. “Scarier than me going ninja on a demon’s ass?”

  “Uh, I get your point.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and then spread wide. Her fingers walked up the buttons of his shirt. “Do you know your voice was higher when you were calling me ‘honey’?”

  “Felt like my balls were in a vise,” he growled. “But it was kind of fun. You can play a giddy bride to my whipped fiancé anytime,” he said, knowing he flirted with danger but unable to resist this playful side of Cait.

  “You were pretty convincing yourself, Detective. Maybe you should consider undercover work.”

  “Huh” came a soft huff beside them.

  Sam raised his head to find Celeste standing there, her dark brows raised high. “Now I know why you’re bot’ so eager ta get home.”

  Cait laughed and pulled from his embrace.

  “Saffron and gum arabic are in da bag,” Celeste said, handing her a small hemp sack with the drawstring loosened. “And som’tin’ for when you two are alone.” Her full bottom lip pushed out. Amusement gleamed in her large dark eyes.

  Cait’s gaze widened, and she peeked into the bag. “An apple?”

  “A golden apple. You so fond of Greek goddesses, you ask Aphrodite for her blessings.” Her chin pointed toward Sam. “Den have him take a bite.”

  Cait whispered back harshly, “I don’t need that kind of help. And we don’t need to be discussing it with him standing right there.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder.

  “Sure you do. He’s already mad for you, chère,” she said, tapping her finger under Cait’s chin. “But it never hurts ta give him anot’er nudge.” Celeste winked then went to the window to turn her sign.

  At the car, Sam glanced back at the shop just as a customer entered. “Why is the store always empty when we go there?”

  “Guess it must be magic,” Cait drawled as she slid into the vehicle.

  Sam closed his own door and then shot a glance her way. “Do I have to ask about the apple?”

  “It’s yellow. Not gold.”

  He arched a brow. “And?”

  “Do you know who Aphrodite was?”

  Sam shrugged as he pulled into traffic. “Some Greek goddess? Was she the warrior?”

  “Nope.” But her sigh was one of pure relief.

  Sam made a note to Google Aphrodite and golden apples. “She’s right, you know,” he said, watching her from the corner of his eye. “I am mad for you, Cait.”

  Her chest rose around a deep inhalation. Sam had said he loved her a few times, usually when they thought they were about to die or he was sated with sex. She deserved better from him. “You heard that?”

  “She wasn’t whispering,” he said, giving her a wry smile.

  “Hmm.” Cait turned away and fisted her hand at her side. “Yes,” came a quiet, but emphatic hiss.

  Sam couldn’t help the deep chuckle or the urge to reach across the seat and capture her hand. Without saying another word, he drove on.

  Her stomach growled. “Think we can drop the bag and the butterfly at my apartment and grab a bite? Morin forgot to feed me.”

  “Have to wait for the full moon anyway, right?” Sam flipped the turn signal. “Sure. O’Malley’s?”

  “We’ll kill two birds. We need to catch up with Jason.”

  Sam nodded, then realized it was the first time the mention of O’Malley’s didn’t make his stomach tighten in rejection. So, the place was a bar. They served booze. But so far, Cait had held strong. He wondered if she still felt the urge to drown the voices with a bottle, but was afraid to ask in case the question got her thinking he wasn’t ready to start trusting her.

  Morin’s words came back to him. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. He was sure Morin hadn’t mentioned his trust issues because he wanted to help their relationship. But the mention did get Sam thinking that maybe it was time he tried a little harder.

  Or was he holding on to his distrust for another reason? Did he want an excuse to guard himself against the pain if they didn’t work out?

  Sam didn’t like to think he was a coward. But the last time they’d broken up, he’d been driven to his knees with sorrow and anger. That was before he’d learned she had reasons for hitting the bottle in the first place, although she’d only mentioned one. The whispers of ever-present spirits couldn’t be the only thin
g she wanted to escape.

  Sam slammed the car door closed and met Cait’s questioning glance across the top of the car. Pasting on a half-smile, he circled the car and held up his elbow. “Can’t have anyone thinking Miss Migelo didn’t land herself quite a catch.”

  8

  Cait entered O’Malley’s and drew in a deep breath through her nose. All the familiar scents assailed her, the most prominent being alcohol. How she loved this place. Loved the feeling that swept through her when she entered. Here, she felt safe. Cocooned from sorrow and her problems. There was always a smiling face to greet her, even if it was only Pauly happy to serve her a drink.

  Pauly gave her a small wave, perhaps holding his enthusiasm because of Sam. He was well aware she’d “taken the pledge” since renewing her working and personal relationship with her ex.

  And Sam wasn’t a fan. Too many times he’d lit a fire under Pauly’s ass for continuing to serve Cait past the point she could walk a straight line out the door. Not that Pauly was to blame. She’d liked getting shit-faced. She was a grown woman and had made her own choices. Or so she’d said.

  Tonight, she wasn’t so sure she’d ever been the one in charge. Not with the irresistible sour odor of scotch wafting in the air. Her mouth watered.

  “What’s your poison tonight?” Pauly asked as they drew near.

  “Cokes,” she blurted before Sam had the chance to order for her. Her stomach growled. “And could we have some fish and chips?”

  Pauly gave her a smile. “Glad to see you both,” he said, lifting his chin to the opposite side of the tavern’s crowded floor. “I’ll bring everything to the table. Your partner’s already there.”

  Cait’s gaze whipped around, and she spotted Jason raising a glass of dark beer from across the room.

  Sam’s hand guided her through the tables, and then he stood to the side as she slipped across the leather bench.

  Jason grinned at Sam. “I see you found our escapee.” Then he leaned toward Cait. “How’d your day go?”

  “Fine.” Cait cleared her throat, wondering where to start. “We got some workable intel from Morin.”

  Jason arched a brow.

  Sam shook his head. “She’s going to do a spell to summon Sylvia Reyes’s spirit.”

  Cait gave Sam a quelling glare. “Way to jump right in.”

  “So just another day, I see.” Jason made a face and nodded.

  Cait eyed Jason. As always, his shirt was perfectly pressed, his blond hair smooth. The only time she’d seen him anything but dapper was after a wraith flung him around like a life-sized rag doll. She flashed him a quick grin. “Your fingers little nubs?”

  He held up both hands. “Not so nubby, but I have a headache from staring at the damn screen. Why is it you always get the most exciting jobs?”

  “Because I’m special.” Cait tilted her head.

  “Oh, you’re special, all right,” Jason said, then took another gulp of beer. “So, what did your trip to the mage get ya?”

  Cait filled him in on what she’d learned about the kinds of monsters they were facing, not sugarcoating the dangers.

  “Really think the incubus might be that creep Clayton?”

  “Or one of his cronies,” Cait muttered. “Just because he’s the mouth doesn’t mean he does the thinking.”

  Sam nodded. “Mina seems a lot sharper than she likes to let on.”

  “So we’re going to pull them into the investigation.” Jason leaned back and sighed. “Gonna share everything we know? Give them warning just in case they meet the demon in the walls?”

  Sam and Cait shared a glance.

  Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. How do you want to play it, Cait?”

  Her brows waggled. “Given I’m so good at playing a role, huh?” she said, dropping her voice to a sultry purr.

  “TMI, guys,” Jason groaned. “I don’t need to know Sam dresses up as Superman or that you have a French maid’s costume in the closet.”

  Cait shook her head slowly. “Seriously? That’s the first thing you thought of?”

  Jason’s face turned red. “Maybe I should tell you what I learned.”

  Cait leaned toward Sam. “He’s changing the subject.”

  “Let it drop, Cait,” Sam said, his voice deepening. “Some secrets are only need-to-know.”

  Cait’s jaw dropped. “You told a joke? And a good one?”

  He grimaced. “I’m not without a sense of humor.”

  “No, Mr. Ex-Marine. You were born without a funny bone.”

  “I love it when you two coo like lovebirds,” Jason said, a smile splitting his face, “but I really do have some information to share.”

  Sam and Cait turned toward Jason, smiles fading.

  “What did you find out?” she asked.

  Jason tapped the table. “First, I checked with the medical examiner. Although Sylvia’s body was pretty dried out, he believes she died from the trauma of having her internal organs ripped out. Postmortem, her bones were methodically broken to make her fit into the space between the walls. He thinks it was done with a hammer because some appeared nearly pulverized, but he couldn’t actually find any rounded indentions in the bones to prove it.”

  Cait wrinkled her nose. “Not sure how knowing that will be helpful, and I certainly didn’t want that picture in my mind. What did your Internet search turn up?”

  Jason leaned forward. “There are more bodies to be found. That’s a certainty. The Deluxe has been the center of several missing persons investigations, going back to the early eighties. But there’s never been a single shred of evidence found. Not until they dug Sylvia out of the wall.

  “And our ol’ bud, Oscar Reyes?” Jason snorted. “He’s been busted a couple of times for battery. He’s not shy about using his fists when someone pisses him off. Last time he was convicted of beating up a girlfriend. Another ex-hooker. Guess he thinks if he saves them, they’re his to treat however he pleases.”

  “Nice guy,” Sam murmured. “So it’s possible Oscar might have something to do with Sylvia’s death. But I can’t see him being the incubus.”

  Cait turned to meet Sam’s worried gaze. “But he might have met him. Maybe he’s the one who put the incubus onto Sylvia. If we can figure out the incubus’s hunting grounds, we can figure out whether Oscar had a hand in all this.”

  Sam nodded, running a hand over his chin.

  Cait heard the chafe of his five o’clock shadow. Sexy. Maybe her expression had turned dreamy because Sam’s gaze sparkled as he continued.

  “I’m sure Leland would appreciate having someone human to pin this on.”

  Cait blew out a deep breath and leaned back against the leather-upholstered seat. “I was so hoping it was a completely demon thing. Oscar really gives me the creeps.”

  Both men gave her disbelieving stares.

  “Yeah, I said it. Oscar’s a sleazebag. He hired us to find proof of his wife’s infidelity when he had it right in his hands. He’s the kind of guy who would take it out on her flesh himself—unless he found an easier way of disposing of her. Something more painful. And note this,” she said tapping the table for emphasis, “we haven’t heard a word from him since this all went down. I would have thought a grieving husband would be on the phone that night to hear what we found out.”

  Sam nodded, his gaze turning to the window as though lost in thought. “He already knew she’d be dead.” He shook his head, his lips tightening. “I’ll have Oscar hauled in for questioning in the morning.”

  “You need to do the questioning,” Cait said, turning her body toward Sam. “Your homicide buddies won’t have a clue what to ask. Can you handle it on your own?”

  He grunted and slouched in the chair. “You think I don’t know how to conduct an interrogation?”

  “It’s not that. I want to get with the Reel PIs guys as soon as possible. Since I’m Teflon-coated now, you don’t have to worry about me getting zapped.”

  “And being pulled back in time and pus
hed into a wall isn’t something to worry about?”

  She cocked her head. “I don’t think I’ll be that vulnerable again.”

  Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Careful. Jason’s gonna think you’re the one who wears the cape.”

  “Which would put you in the black skirt,” she said, smiling.

  The sound of a throat clearing beside them had all heads turning.

  Pauly stood beside them, grinning. “I don’t wanna know.” He slid two large plates of fish with fries in front of Sam and Cait.

  “Want some?” Cait said to Jason as she stuffed a fry into her mouth, savoring the crisp potato and its saltiness. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was.

  “I don’t want to lose a finger.”

  She snagged the malt vinegar from Pauly’s tray before he had a chance to offer it.

  “Douse your food with that?” Jason said, his head shaking as he watched her mill into her food. “Sam won’t be kissing you anytime soon.”

  She waggled her eyebrows. “I’ll make it worth the effort.”

  Pauly and Jason both groaned, and then laughed. Sam chuckled and tucked into his food.

  “Gonna eat all your fries?” she asked him, blinking her eyelashes.

  “Course not, honey.”

  “Aw,” Jason moaned with a shake of his head. “Another one bites the dust.”

  Back at her apartment, Cait listened to the sound of the shower starting in the distance before moving a chair to the closet and climbing up to root into the top shelf. She pulled down the leather-bound book and carried it to the kitchen table where she had her ingredients spread before her.

  Rubbing a finger across the engraving of a pentagram on the front cover, she drew a deep, calming breath. The book was hers now. Not her mama’s. Not any of the witches in its long past.

  Just like the rose quartz ball handed down the generations, the book came with mystical energy that transferred ownership to the next with a touch. The first time she’d sat at this table and read through the spells and stories her predecessors shared, she’d felt as though a part of their souls mingled with her own.